Autobiography

Printer-friendly version
Autobiography
A super-short short story by Melanie E.

Jimmy stared at the page, unsure of how, or even where, to begin.

It wasn't that the assignment was tough, really. Or, perhaps it was; not on the surface, no, but at the core of what was being asked for was a larger question to be answered.

It wasn't really supposed to be a full autobiography, he told himself, just a few pages of miscellaneous words to introduce himself to the teacher and the class. Just a little something to show everyone who he was, what he liked, and how he thought.

How could the teacher have known that the answers to that would have been such a huge deal?

Jimmy pondered and pondered, but remained stuck. Perhaps moving it to the third person would be easier? Without much hope, he dashed out a quick introduction on his screen, then read it aloud to himself.

"There once was a boy."

No; that just didn't work. There was something wrong about it, something off. Something that wasn't HIM.

No again. It not being him wasn't the issue at all.

Jimmy smiled. He would write the autobiography the teacher had asked for. It was risky, and perhaps a little stupid... but it FELT right. It felt like it was time to let it out.

Correction; it felt like it was well past time to let it out.

A few moments holding the delete key was all it took to clear the page, and with a steady hand she typed in her new introduction. She might lose her nerve before class, but for now the screen said what needed said. She read the screen aloud again, quietly but with conviction.

"There once... was a girl."

--End--

NOTES:

Unlike how I normally do things here, I did a bit of editing before sharing this. It all started with me being bored and having an open Skype channel and no-one to listen. Soon, there came a story. Here's the original text, as I typed it into Skype (name removed for identity concerns):
[10:40:20 PM] ----: Jimmy stared at the page, unsure of how or even where to begin.
[10:41:12 PM] ----: It wasn't that the assignment was tough. Or, perhaps it WAS; not on the surface, no, but at the core of what was being asked was a larger question to be answered.
[10:42:04 PM] ----: It was just an autobiography, just a few pages of miscellaneous words to introduce himself to the teacher and the class. Just an autobiography, something meant to show everyone who he was, what he liked, and how he thought.
[10:42:29 PM] ----: How could the teacher have known that asking for that would have been such a huge deal, then?
[10:43:35 PM] ----: Perhaps moving it to the third person would make it easier, he pondered, quickly dashing out a sentence on his screen. Without much hope, he read it aloud to himself. "There once was a boy."
[10:43:58 PM] ----: No, that just didn't work. There was something wrong about it, something off. Something that wasn't HIM.
[10:44:10 PM] ----: No again. That wasn't the issue at all.
[10:45:53 PM] ----: Jimmy smiled. He would write the autobiography the teacher asked for. It was risky, it was a little stupid, perhaps... but it FELT right. It felt like time.
[10:45:57 PM] ----: It felt well past time.
[10:47:06 PM] ----: A few moments of holding the delete key was all it took to clear the page, and with a steady hand she typed in the words she had to write, then read them aloud, quietly but firmly. "There once... was a girl."
[10:47:10 PM] ----: The End.
This, people, is why you should never leave me with a blank page and any amount of free time.
Another fun note: First time stamp there is CST, and as of completing the post to put here it's now... 11:01 PM CST of the same day, so not a lot of time was spent on this. Still, I hope y'all enjoy!

up
131 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos

Comments

A good beginning,

Even if that is all it ever is.

Write your own ending

IM-not-so-HO, the joy/virtue of short-short stories is that they get our imaginations going because they don't fill everything in.

Maybe the point of this "beginning" is for each of us to write our own story.

I tend to assume that I never had these "there's a girl inside" feelings until recently. But, if so, why is it that stories about children knowing they're a different gender at a young age and fighting to have that recognized always make me cry? Maybe this is the beginning of the story of how my life should have been. Maybe it's time for me to write the true story of my life, the one that's truer than what actually happened.

There's a girl inside

Patricia Marie Allen's picture

You know, I'm not sure just when I recognized "there's a girl inside" me, but I know that my first experiments with the feminine started at a very young age. I never really had and "boy's toys" as a toddler. It wasn't until 2nd grade that I acquired anything that could be assigned a gender, and it wasn't so much that I assigned the gender, because it was just a hand-me-down baseball glove. It became mine by default because none of my other siblings played baseball anymore.

Incidentally, that was also about the time that I started dressing in my sister's clothes when I was home alone. (See "Silence is Golden")

I didn't really acknowledge I really had a "girl inside" until after my wife caught me in her clothes. I was in my mid twenties.

Hugs
Patricia

Happiness is being all dressed up and HAVING some place to go.
Semper in femineo gerunt

"There once... was a girl."

cool. I hope she comes out, and is received well.

DogSig.png

Question

Is the word count in any way related to the title? :)